Loki Saberhagen- Victor

In a haze of drugs and exhaustion, I had a vague memory of a blurry, smiling man leaning over me.

"Good news. You won!"

Was that real? It seems like I won. I was half-dead myself, but Lyon was all dead. I even heard his cannon.

I slowly opened my eyes. There was air all around me. Right away, it freaked me out. There was just nothing. There was no warm weight pushing on me, no tiny straw I sucked breaths out of. When I raised an arm, it shot straight up without resistance, then fell back weakly without support. I flopped both arms in turn, feeling a mix of fascination and panic as my fingers grabbed at nothing.

"Having fun?"

I turned my head sharply to reveal Paul sitting in a chair on the side of the room. I hadn't even noticed him past all the mesmerizing air. I sucked in breath as my head turned, and I winced and coughed at the burning, scratching pain in my throat. It felt like all the moisture had been stripped away, leaving only raw tissue.

"I guess. Where's Hades?" I asked.

"He's on his way. He just got waylaid by the stylists. I keep telling him to use the back entrance," Paul said. "How you feel?"

"Terrible," I said. Everything hurt. I didn't know where to start. My skin, which I'd noticed was pinkish and felt warm and irritated. My leg, which so recently had a spear sticking out of it. My throat, so raw I could barely speak. I coughed, and my right ear exploded in a white supernova of pain. I yelped and clamped my hand to it, my fingers brushing metal.

"Ear infections. You ever heard of Swimmer's Ear? You got it bad. They're not permanent, though," Paul said, pointing at the tiny tubes in both my ears. "They're just to drain the fluid."

All at once, the realization hit me. I was on land again. I was on land, where humans belonged. I wasn't in that godforsaken, alien environment anymore. I sat up, almost pitching forward with the unexpected easiness of the movement.

"Can I get up?" I asked. Without waiting for an answer, I pushed the sheets back. I swung my legs out of bed, and hopped up. Immediately, I splatted face-first onto the ground.

"I don't know," Paul said. "Can you?"


I had to use Paul here because Hades totally would have warned Loki instead of letting him faceplant.


"Hey, Loki!" Hades called when he saw me as I was going to the stylists and he was going from. His face was caked in glitter and powder, making him look even younger than he was. "Oh, they got you in a wheelchair?"

"Just until I get back on my feet," I said, and then realized the inane truism of what I'd just said.

"You did it! That was so cool! Just like in the story where Loki pretended he was Freya!" Hades said. For the first time since I woke up, I smiled. I hadn't thought there was anyone who understood.

"See you soon. They're going to want you for a long time," Hades said, looking down the hall at the door to the styling room. "I'm really glad you're back."

"LOOOOOOOKIIIIIIIIII!" Flora screamed as Paul pushed on the door. It opened, revealing her face. As soon as she saw me, her mouth dropped open and her hands fluttered to her chest, eyes round and shocked. "LOKI!" she shrieked.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I asked, tears already springing to me eyes. What have they done to me? Why didn't Paul mention it? Why didn't Hades?

Flora threw her hands to her face and turned around, fleeing across the room and bursting into sobs.

"What's wrong?" I asked again, and my voice cracked. I looked around the room and stopped cold when my eyes found a mirror.

What have they done to me?

My unkempt, shaggy hair was glossy, as bright as a raven's wing. My face was pale and hollow underneath it. My cheekbones jutted out harshly, shadowing my face like a hooded Grim Reaper. My eyebrows were sharper and darker, like a child's drawing of Satan. My skin had a horrible pallor. The second I saw it, I was right back in the Arena, looking at Jaydalin's pale corpse. And the eyes… The eyes that saw that corpse's face in the mirror. They were bright yellow. Snake's eyes. A monster's eyes.


It was a nightmare going out for my interview. My black suit was impeccably tailored, highlighting my frame while tastefully hiding the array of struts and supports that moved my atrophied legs so I could pretend to walk. My shambling gait would be chalked up by the audience to the gilded cane I leaned on. I should have felt relieved when I reached my seat, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get back up.

"Presenting our newest Victor, District Seven's Loki Saberhagen!" Caesar announced. "How does it feel to be the most famous person in Panem?"

"I don't really know yet," I admitted.

"I'll tell you this. You're absolutely unforgettable. I know we're going to see this in the highlights reel, but what you did to get here… astounding." Caesar gave me a congratulatory grin. "I guess sometimes the bad guys win, right?"

"What?" The room shrank around me, so I saw nothing but Caesar's face, and how his grin flickered when he saw my reaction. My pained whisper was so quiet the cameras didn't catch it, but Caesar saw everything.

"Right. Well," he said quickly, and coughed. "Let's have that highlight reel."

I'm not the bad guy.

I looked desperately over the crowd as the reel played. Usually people would cheer and yell how much they loved the Victor. But they were silent now. Through the Bloodbath and the first few days, there was nothing but the screaming of dying Tributes and the Anthem playing softly in the background. Then we reached the part where I found Jaydalin. That was when the jeering began. Howling, hooting screams emanated from the crowd, both wordless exclamations and pointed accusations.

"Monster!" someone yelled from the back of the crowd.

"Savage!" a woman yelled from the front row, and I saw her snarling face as she did it.

"Murderer!" a little boy yelled, then smiled up at his father for approval.

I looked back at Caesar, silently pleading with him to tell them to stop. He always tried to make the Tributes look good. He would help me. His eyes caught mine for a minute, but he hurriedly looked away, pretending to fiddle with his collar.

One of the men in the front row jumped at the stage, and then they were all coming, like a human flood. They're going to kill me, I thought, as I tried to get up and fumbled my cane, dropping it. Torches and pitchforks for the monster.

A dozen Peacekeepers seemed to melt into existence, they came so quickly. They pushed back the few people who had reached the stage, far more gently than they would have for Districters. As soon as the stage was clear, a forcefield crackled into place, cutting me off from them. I couldn't hear their screams anymore, but I could still see the hate in their faces.

Caesar and I sat in silence for the perhaps ten minute break in transmission as the Peacekeepers settled the crowds, escorted out a handful of aggressors, and established security for Snow to arrive. I stared down at my lap, unable to look at him. Tears disappeared into the dark fabric of my suit, and I wondered what Puff would think if she saw my smudged makeup.

They made me the bad guy. The people who watched children die for fun looked at me and shuddered. I just wanted to go home. I didn't want to do this. You made me do this. Why do you hate me for being what you made me?

The forcefield extended down the catwalk when the Anthem announced President Snow's arrival. It put all my horror in perspective when I realized I was relieved to see him. I was relieved to see the mass murderer, because I knew he wouldn't look at me, the boy who only killed two people, with horror. Then I saw the crown.

Oh my god it's her it's her hair.

My heart clenched, beating so forcefully it echoed in my head. My breathing stopped, and I took a step back before President Snow's raised eyebrow froze me. Just before I thought I might faint, he came close enough that I saw it was fine strands of bronze. It was strands of bronze woven into the circlet that looked so much like a coiled braid of hair. It wasn't the preserved scalp of the girl I scavenged, just a facsimile. Just a facsimile of the worst moment of my life, that I would wear on my head forever.


I'll do the final eulogies next time. I just wanted to get this out before I went to bed. Not a great start for Loki, though :( Maybe Seven will be kinder to him?